Building Anew
by Vulcan Halps
Summary: The war is over... for the most part. But there a displaced people, destroyed cities and political turmoil. It's going to be a long road to peace
1. The High Lady

The white city shown like the beacon it was to its people. A single horse labored for the opening gates. The rider held tightly to the reins; a figure lay across the saddle's horn. The guards took up the horn sending a call through the city.

Aragorn and the other leaders were in the hall discussing the remaining orcs and men from the east. Their leaderless raids on any travelers or defenseless towns needed to be stemmed. "The attacks are the worst on the border between Rohan and Gondor." Faramir traced the line on the map with two gloved fingers.

"The towns are too far from Edoras or Minas Tirith to come for our protection." Eomer nodded his agreement and continued. "The messengers don't reach us until days after the raids."

This is had been a discussion for many days, but no one got a chance to grumble as the horns sounded throughout the city. "Messenger," Legolas interpreted the cause of the call. "He brings a wounded woman with him." He spoke from his position near a window.

"Can you see him?" Aragorn spoke to his friend.

The elf looked down out the window. "It's a rider of Rohan."

Eomer stood excusing himself. The meeting broke up when Aragorn followed. The rider was already in the courtyard of the white tree when the kings walked out into the sunshine.

He was still holding the woman as he bowed low. "My king." The houses of healing's warden came forward and gently lifted the woman from the rider's arms. "We were attacked by a raiding party on our way from Edoras."

"Clearly." Eomer looked over the rider, one of his countrymen. His helmet was gone; red and black blood mingled covering his armor in an almost pattern. The rider watched the woman being carried away before he turned his full attention to his captain, king. "What happened?"

The rider frowned. "We came upon a burned out camp near the boarder. A dozen or so elfin warriors dead. The camp obviously accommodated more. Elfhelm sent scouts to track the attackers. The rest of us were sent ahead. The following night we ran into the elfin travelers and the sun had barely set before the orcs attacked again." He looked off after the woman. "Elfhelm ordered me to take her and ride posthaste to Minas Tirith."

Aragorn seemed to understand the man's halting speech and breathless explanation. "When?"

"A hard day's ride." The rider steeled himself though he swayed slightly to the side. Riding all day, he had not taken time to nourish himself or rest. Eomer put a hand on his shoulder and helped him to a seat. The kings left his side to speak together. "Friends of yours?" Eomer wondered what the odds were that his riders and a group of elves could be defeated by a ban of leaderless orcs.

Aragorn nodded, "Must be, why else would an elf venture this far south?" He brought a hand to his mouth to encourage thought. "The orcs were moving south as well. We need a tracker."

"We took too much time in tackling these rabble orcs."

Aragorn contemplated. "Time is not out yet." He paused. "Faramir."

-x-

Eowyn was taking her daily walk through the gardens of the Houses of Healing. She would miss these peace filled walks when she returned to Edoras. By this time most of the palace's inhabitants knew of her habit and she had made a game of guess whose footfalls were approaching. The difficulty of today was not distinguishing the footsteps, but hearing them. Arwen had a way of walking that looked like she was floating and made about as much noise.

"May I join you, Lady Eowyn?" Arwen spoke, her emotions in her voice rather than expression. She was happy as any woman would be in the days before her wedding, but also curious.

Eowyn nodded hesitant to speak to the woman who had been her competition. In fact she felt guilty as if any pain Arwen had endured the past months had been her fault. She hoped that for no period of time did she take Aragorn's affections from his elfish bride.

"Come." Arwen touched her arm and they walked to the fountain courtyard. The elf felt her companion's distress. "Do you find my presence disruptive, lady?"

Eowyn wanted to scream the affirmative, but her peace had already fled. She might as well take this opportunity to speak with the elfish lady. "Of course not, my lady. I am just failing in speech this day."

"How is your health?" Arwen asked knowing the white lady of Rohan had been injured in the war still fresh in the minds of all men.

Eowyn smile as she realized she hadn't had such a mundane question posed to her in months. "I am perfectly healthy," she responded with a laugh after a moment to assess. That laugh broke the tension between the two. While that walk was not much longer and did not produce discussion of any importance, one might have taken the two for friends. They walked together back into the houses of healing still conversing about the plant life of their native cities.

Upon their return to the houses, the two women found a new addition. The wounded female was not near death, but her fitful sleep was a sign of distress. Arwen went to the woman's side. Touching her face, she spoke softly in elfish and slowly the woman calmed. Though she didn't understand what Arwen was saying, Eowyn took the woman's hand.

But this was no woman, the face turned toward Arwen's soft voice and her hair fell away from her face revealing pointed ears. "She's an elf," Eowyn gasped. A sudden sadness had taken over Eowyn's heart as she looked down at the beautiful, even bloodstained, face of the wounded she-elf.

"Go to the King." Arwen knew the repercussions, if the raids were attacking all travelers to Minas Tirith for the ceremony. "Tell him she hails from Rivendale."

Not one to take orders from anyone, Eowyn wondered why she was so quick to do as the elfish princess bid. She found Aragorn, her brother and Lord Faramir in the great hall, the rider sitting a stretch away. "My lord," she bowed to Aragorn. "The wounded female brought to the Houses of Healing is an elf from Rivendale."

The rider's head came up sharply. The three noble men turned toward her. Eomer seemed confused. "How do you know this?"

She scowled at him. "The lady Arwen happened upon me in the gardens. She is comforting the injured even now."

"Yes, Eomer, friends of mine." The men smiled grimly at the joke.

Faramir looked at the saddle weary rider. "The orcs have a leader and they are not hesitating to attack Rohan riders and elves." His jaw set, but his voice conveyed respect as he spoke to Aragorn. "This needs to be resolved."

-x-

Gimli was beginning to hate these long war counsels. All they ever seemed to do was argue for hours and never come up with a solution or even a good battle plan. It was now certain that the orcs were organized and attacking travelers. And yet some warriors were still grumbling about the war they had just fought. "These men are no warriors," he grumbled beneath his breath.

The elf, of course, heard him and placed a hand on his shoulder not to calm, but agree. "This is not a new fight. The battle continues."

"It's more than that everyone who is to come to the ceremony risks death." Elrond spoke in his careful, thought-filled way.

Faramir nodded, "There is one in particular that is necessary for the ceremony."

"Faramir," Prince Imrahil sighed, but Aragorn was curious about this turn of topic and urged him to continue. "The highest ranking lady of Gondor must present the queen with her position. It is a tradition that the people will demand before they recognize the Lady Arwen as queen."

"Who is the highest ranking lady?" Eomer understood tradition—Rohan had their own—and if the tradition encouraged these men to defend their people he would not object.

"The Princess of Dol Amroth," answered Elphir with a slight frown.

"Why do you look so unsure?" Gimli was finally interested in this situation.

"The lady is still in her youth. She only ranks highest due to the lady Stewardess's death and her mother's. If any of the steward's sons had married, the high lady would live with the city." Imrahil smiled. "Instead my daughter is difficult."

"Difficult? Father, you are being kind. She called the Steward an old fool to his face." Elphir smirked at the memory.

Faramir too remembered the incident. It was concerning him after all. "Now you be unkind, Elphir." He addressed the king. "Elessar, the princess is strong willed, but she has been the high lady for many years and has performed her duties without fault. Her personality cannot be foundation to ignore her presence."

It was then that Pippin, guard of the Citadel, burst into the room. "Orcs," he gasped for breath, "on the fields of Pelennor."

"This talk is useless and we miss out on the fighting." Gimli looked up at his elf friend.

But Legolas was somber. "I fear the fighting is not yet done."

-x-


	2. Hope in the Night

Merry had come for Eowyn. She and the Lady Arwen rushed to the cliff overlooking the city. In the distance twenty or so dark figures on foot ran towards the city. Before them rode two fair horses clearly visible in the half-dark. The first horse held a cloaked rider who blended too far into the darkness to be identified. The other wore a dark cloak, but the golden hair streaming above the horse claimed the race of the rider, an elf.

Arwen gasped as the elf's horse was further outpaced by the fore figure. But that rider had noticed and returned to give the elf aid. The dark figure rode its horse before the charging orcs. Arrows took out the nearest orcs as the precariously perched elf rode ever closer to the gates. The orcs came too close to the hooded rider. It dismounted and cut down several more orcs in combat with blades. The remaining attackers were too far to be a danger. Mounting again the figure rose forward, quickly overtaking the elf's horse. Placing one hand on the elf's back, it rode both horses through the gates and navigated the maze that was Minas Tirith to reach the palace stables.

Aragorn turned to Prince Imrahil. "Take you sons, your men, and finish off the orcs. Even as he spoke Eomer, Faramir and Legolas arrived at the stables. Gimli and Eowyn caught up with them moments later. They watched the hooded figure strain to help the elf off her horse. The figure backed away as Faramir approached. He lifted the injured elf and headed for the Houses of Healing.

Once he was gone Legolas peered at the hooded figure. He called out in elvish, "_O eisi ei shystal_."

The figure lowered her hood. "_Mai o eisi eil aer._," she spoke forwardly.

"Why do two women ride alone this night," the dwarf asked as the injured elf's horse became skittish.

She whistled softly to calm the horse before answering. "We were not alone. Two of my best guards came along to protect us; they died in that endeavor." She sighed. "The rest are still to the west. They lead all but three dozen orcs astray. However, I fear being tired and hungry they will not survive this night."

"Who is among those who rode in the diversion?" Eomer spoke remembering his wounded rider's tale.

Aragorn now arrived. "Several of the Riddermark, many travel worn elves, and what is left of my guard." The woman seemed distracted.

The king spoke. "Eomer, friend, how many riders do you have on watch at this hour?"

"Twenty."

"Call them. Legolas, Gimli." The two friends moved towards Legolas's steed without explanation. Eowyn and the woman also mounted.

The men seemed about to object, but Eowyn glared and the rider said, "And who will show you the way." So no objections were voiced. Faramir returned and the woman pulled the hood back over her head.

"Faramir," Aragorn spoke to the young Steward. "Raise your rangers."

And so about fifty men left the city as the night came to its balance and rode east across the field of Pelennor. It was not until the foothills that the woman and Faramir began to ride ahead because they knew the environment. The crosswind over the changing landscape pulled the hood from her head. "Lothiriel," Faramir sighed. Between the distance and the rough terrain, the rest of the riders did not overhear the conversation.

"They went this way." Lothiriel headed southeast toward the Sirith River, the opposite direction of Minas Tirith. The elves, Rohirrims, and Gondorian guards risked their lives to save two women. Faramir should have known that Lothiriel would be one. Until Aragorn married, she was the most precious woman in Gondor.

He quickly caught up with her. "If your father knew, if anyone knew, they would not have let you ride into the night on a rescue mission."

She nodded. "That is why I did not reveal myself." She looked at the mountain ahead. "I could not bare thirty men losing their lives for mine." Even through the dark, Lothiriel knew what expression was etched on to Faramir's features. "Do not scowl. The only one to be blamed for my actions is me."

When they reached the pass through the mountains the riders had to stay together for the mountain's shadow encased their way in darkness. They rode two abreast through. "How do you know they went this way?" Faramir questioned scanning the black rocks as if Lothiriel followed a sign.

"Timlin leads them. His uncles hunt up here. There is a well traveled path out of the pass into the forest beyond. You'll have to track them from there."

"How do you suppose I do that?"

Lothiriel sighed and sent him a look even though she knew he could not see it. "You are a ranger, Faramir, and no one knows the wilds of Gondor better than you. Even my own brothers pale in comparison."

"Impressive compliments," the elf spoke up from behind Lothiriel.

"It is no compliment. The Captain of Gondor should know the land better than any other." She turned up the path and they began a slow incline.

Faramir spoke no response. Lothiriel always had a way about her. She supported and believed in him, but did not pander him. He was good, possibly great, in her eyes, but this was expected. She'd had a similar reaction to Boromir. He was a great solider, but that was what he was supposed to be. No better, no worse.

The path ended on a plateau of trees, splintering into three separate clearings through the trees. Faramir got off his horse as well as Legolas. In the dim light they searched for a sign of the missing men having passed that way. After a moment of discussion they agreed on the left path leading back in the direction of Minas Tirith.

The path was still too small for more than two horses, but Lothiriel pulled back allowing Legolas to ride in front of her. The sky was already beginning to color and the light allowed Eowyn to divert some of her attention from their path.

Lothiriel noticed the attention paid her. "You're the lady of Rohan." Eowyn seemed surprised by the comment. "We were sent news of the war. Your name was mentioned." Lothiriel downplayed her interest so as not to startle the warrior lady again.

Nodding Eowyn searched the form of the Gondorian woman for some hint of her identity. "And who is this that knows so much of me and yet I find myself without knowledge of you?" But she received no reply as they heard the whinnying of horses ahead.

They quickly came upon the worn travelers. The elves who had been traveling the longest even looked a little worn. The Rohirrims tried to look awake and aware, but they could not sit upright, even as they recognized their king. The Gondorian men were doing their best, but unlike the others their hearts not their bodies were wounded. For their leader had died protecting them. Dawn was still far off and shadows were cast about by the tall trees, but the worn travelers stood as their rescuers caught up with them.

The newcomers dismounted and Elfhelm, Marshall of the east-Mark, came to Eomer's side. "There are at least a hundred orcs in these woods."

The Gondorian guard, Timlin, added, "They almost overcame us on the hunting pass, but they took another path through the forest."

"The center road?" Faramir looked at Lothiriel. "This way leads to Lossarnach." A passage between to mountains on the way back to Minas Tirith.

"They'll use the outcrops above as cover while they ambush us." Lothiriel finished his thought.

Watching the exchange Eomer asked, "What is the best way to stop them?"

Lothiriel was impressed that he did not ask if they could go around. She smiled. "Faramir, if you ride hard, you could beat them to the cliffs."

"Legolas, Eomer."

Lothiriel offered the elf her horse and the three men headed for the rocks at great haste. Gimli frowned. "And what am I to do? Stay here with the wounded and the woman?"

"If the ambush is not stalled we will still need fresh fighters, Master Dwarf, and who better than one with your skill." Lothiriel spoke calmly, but honestly.

"Do you patronize me, my lady?" The dwarf was ready with righteous anger, but the female's face told him she had no intention of lying to calm him.

There were over thirty injured or half-awake men and half a dozen horses. The injured were helped onto the horses of fresh riders and those who did not gain a passenger had a second, possibly exhausted horse tied to their own. Eowyn was saved having either. "May I ride with you, Master Dwarf?" Lothiriel asked as her steed was with the elf.

"Gimli," he answered a little self-consciously as if he was not sure if she knew his name.

"Of course, Master Gimli, you were mentioned as well." As the set out Gimli and Lothiriel spoke of many things. It gave the exhausted men something to focus on. "I hear you and the elf, Legolas, compete to defeat the most opponents in a single battle."

"Why, yes, yes, we do." Gimli's grin could be heard in his voice. "And don't tell the elf, but he does not take losing well."

"You should speak." Eowyn's laughter cut in. "How poorly you took losing the drinking game to your elvish friend."

Gimli changed the subject. "You, my lady, did not answer our lady Eowyn, when she asked for your name."

"What, Master Gimli, made you think I am a lady." Lothiriel had a point she was dressed as a ranger, carrying a bow and chasing after orcs in the night.

He laughed heartily. "Who but a lady would have a steed as fine as yours?"

"Very well. I am Lothiriel, Princess of Dol Amroth. You are Gimli, son of Gloin of the Durin's folk." She inclined her head to Eowyn. "And you are Eowyn, white lady of Rohan."

No response was needed to this, nor was one possible as the pass of Lossarnach loomed before them. The pathway between the mountains was wide. The orcs ambush could not hope to kill all of the mounted travelers. But the cliffs were above the height of a mounted man's head. Just high enough for orcs on foot to have the advantage over mounted warriors, even without those riders being half-dead with exhaustion. Yet hey had no choice, but to continue through.

Lothiriel felt a twinge of fear as they started down the pass. She had faith in Faramir. If anyone could reach the cliff and ambush the orcs, it was the captain of Gondor.

The three riders were on the cliffs, but the orcs were already set for their ambush. Unfortunately they were smart enough to set a watch. The three could not take a hundred orcs by themselves. They needed the element of surprise. And that would only come when the orcs were distracted ambushing the very people the three riders wanted to protect.

"We're going to have to attack fast." Faramir spoke from their perch high above the orcs.

Legolas could see the tired group of travelers coming down the pass. "They're here."

"Of course, she would be out front." Eomer spoke about Eowyn, but Faramir and Legolas were reminded that timing had to be perfect because they were all risking someone.

Gimli held his axe at the ready. Lothiriel notched an arrow on her bow. "They attack the greatest threat first."

"And would that be you, Master Gimli?" Eowyn smiled even in the face of danger. Lothiriel took comfort in knowing that.

The orcs first shot barely missed Eowyn. Lothiriel took out her attacker. That shot caught Eomer's attention. The three rescuers jumped from their perch into the hundred unsuspecting orcs. About half realized the danger and tried to fight on the narrow ledge. The others were still prepared to ambush.

None of the expected the blinding light that came from the lead horse. Lothiriel whispered, "_Shas sai Maer._" and the light faded again.

Eomer and Faramir split from each other taking a separate path along the cliff. They fought off the orcs with blades as the rested Rohirrim defended their flanks with arrows and spears. Gimli and Legolas deterred any orc attackers who leapt from the ledge.

Very few of the orcs were still alive as the sun finally rose over the horizon. By then even the men from Minas Tirith were tired, but they were not far from the city. As the white city glimmered into view, a sigh of relief went through the group, but a shout went through Lothiriel. She whistled to her steed and took off for the great city. The horn was taken up to announce their return, but to Lothiriel it was pulling her in. For the second time in her life she was grateful to be in this great city.

The hood again hid her face. They made their way through the labyrinth of the city. The warden and servants of the Houses of Healing entered the stables to welcome them. The wounded were taken away and the exhausted were sent to bed.

The chaos consumed everyone so no one noticed when Lothiriel left only to reappear in a simple gown. She helped Eowyn find bedding for the exhausted travelers. The healers welcomed her help. She was wrapping the arm of one Rohirrim, when Eomer came looking for Eowyn.

The rider shifted uncomfortably. Lothiriel sighed as she realized the bandage was too tight. "I never had gentle hands," she confessed as she concentrated on wrapping his bandage looser.

"It is no bother. My lady has not subtle hands either." He smiled reminiscently. "But she is a far better cook."

Lothiriel found herself smiling at his honest expression. "You called your wife a lady. She must be quite special."

The emotions were visible on his face. "To me she is a queen."

When she was finished, Lothiriel stood and saw the two men waiting for Eowyn. "Faramir." She went to her cousin and hugged him. As Faramir wrapped his arms around her, Eowyn came out of the Houses of Healing.

"Who is she?" the rider that Lothiriel had bandage asked the ranger in the bed beside him.

The ranger laughed. "She's the Princess of Dol Amroth." The rider lowered his head; he had just told a princess that it was alright her hands were not gentle.

"Lothiriel, I would like to introduce you to the white lady of Rohan." Faramir brought her attention to a tall, fair-haired woman. In the light Lothiriel could assess that Eowyn was quite lovely. Her features showed not the lines of war, but there was a sadness in her eyes that made Lothiriel feel for her.

"You are lady Eowyn, when Faramir bothers to write he tells very little, but he has spoken of his walks and conversations with you."

"This is my brother, Eomer, king of the Riddermark." She was proud of her brother and his abilities to fill their uncle's position.

The king himself flinched as she announced his title. As a person he was taller than his sister and a great giant even among men. Lothiriel had heard tales of the men in the north. They were supposed to be nomadic warriors with little customs and no manners. She had no idea if he was a barbarian, but the worry hidden in his expression forced her to consider him to be much more complex than the narratives painted him.

He inclined his head, but those blue eyes stayed on her form. Lothiriel had never been easily intimidated. The steward and all his power could not force her to back down. Yet one look from the infant king made her want to hide.

"Eomer, my friend, this is my cousin, Lothiriel. Princess of Dol Amroth." Faramir stood beaming at Eowyn as if by introducing their relatives they were closer together.

"You are the high lady of Gondor." It was neither question nor statement. He did not care about her rank. It held no importance for his life.

She nodded. "I suppose Rohan does not require a ranking lady for ceremony."

"No, we much prefer men to lead our country."

"And lead the women. Here in Gondor, men lead men and the women are led by women." Lothiriel's blue-grey eyes turned to steel. "Is there nothing more for a woman to do than dress well and carry children?"

Faramir put a hand on his cousin's arm. She had remained perfectly calm and kept her voice level during her tirade on the new king. Yet Faramir knew she had barely contained herself. "No need to start another war," Faramir joked.

"Perhaps I am tired," Lothiriel explained. "It was a pleasure Lady Eowyn. King Eomer." She tired to keep the irritation from her voice but the king's eyes hardening warned her that she failed.


End file.
